Tales of Tamriel: Blood on the waves
by Mr.Squirreljerky
Summary: Year 4E125: 10 years since the Dominion have brought the Khajiit people under their wing. With great haste the once savage land had begun to be tamed with the sophistication and culture of the Altmer. However, some problems simply do not go away. A monstrous fiend stalks the waters of the Topal bay and a bounty has been placed for its head. But who would dare answer the call?


_A novel by Quintenious Varecien_

 _Distributed by the Tamrielic Writers guild-Imperial city Division._

 _Mass produced in conjunction with Black horse carrier._

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All elements of the elder scrolls universe belong to bethesda. I merely own the original characters.

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An unnatural calm had settled over the Topal bay. The seagull's cries were silent, and nary even a rat scurried across the stone harbor. It was unsettling to many and it seemed even the waves had somewhat calmed; the once high crests now only gently lapping across the arenaceous shore and along the hulls of the powerful wooden vessels docked there.

With a flash of lightning and peal of thunder, the calm serenity had broken. Above the churning depths of the ocean, thick, dark clouds began to amass. Angry, black thunderheads hovered above, looming just beyond Senchal's harbor, the clouds, having gluttonously filled themselves with the sea's water, threatened to burst and release their torrential downpour upon the inhabitants of the city.

Senchal, though, was no stranger to such a thing. It had weathered countless storms before and would continue to stubbornly stand in defiance of Khenarthi's wrath.

The many sailors who had made port, though, felt differently about the storm. Many of the older Mariners saw the ferocity of the oncoming tempest as a bad omen while many of the younger sailors nervously laughed it off as the sun and salt finally hardening their brains to rocks. They were quickly reprimanded by the more experienced men and women who scolded them to bite their tongues lest they offend the goddess, Khenarthi.

The sea farers, however, feared the coming storm for a different reason: The Ruddy Man's curse they called it, a deadly sickness of the mind and soul. Storms of this magnitude affected sailor's minds and spirits in odd ways. The darkness, wind and cold all sought to sap the very hope out of the seamen, robbing them of all warmth and all hope that their ship would even survive the natural onslaught, causing some who were not hardened or prepared for the ocean's mournful song to simply throw themselves overboard.

However, the sea farers were not without cures for such an illness and when they reached port, they were all to eager to administer the highest dose of the gods purest medicine...busty woman and strong drink.

The Drunken Dreugh was one such hospice, particularly favored by the sailors, where the scantily clad 'healers' were more than happy to dispense the seamen's much need medicine by the tankard. It was warm and inviting inside, the walls lined with torch sconces and, in a nearby hearth, a cheerful fire burned, chasing away the wet gales of wind that broke upon the sturdy stone and clay of the establishment's walls. There was also the help of the immense clamor of people that set to immediately lift ones spirits upon entering. On both levels of the establishment, sailor, pirate, privateer, and sea rat alike drank shoulder to shoulder, obnoxiously and merrily slurring songs and shanties that were being played by a troubadour of bards that were just as inebriated as the people singing along.

For the ones who didn't take to singing the same song three times in a row because the befuddled and buzzed bards kept forgetting that they had just played it, many more of the sea faring folk were nestled in groups all sitting around a round table, throwing back gallons of strong ale and rum and sharing tales of their adventures out at sea, some more wildly exaggerated than others.

Not every table was as jovial as the rest of the tavern, though. In the far corner of the alehouse, one table sat, lightly sipping their tankards and flagons while they shared hushed rumors, not of daring rescues and seductive sea wenches, but of a monster that plagued the waves, carving its terrible path ship by ship and leaving nary a survivor.

"Ah'm telling you, I saw the ship with me own eye's. It was like one of those fancy dominion vessels but more terrifying, like a deadly monster that the skated over the waves. I didn't think the ship could move as fast as it did when I told the Captain that we needed to get out of there," came the voice a young Imperial sailor, his hands gripped tightly around his tankard as he spoke to the other men gathered round.

"That's nothing," came the voice of a Dunmer Sailor. "My ship had been traveling through a frost-smoke last Morndas, couldn't see me own hand in front of my face, when one of the crew called out that there was a man overboard. We fished a poor sod out of the water with a missing arm and his throat ripped out. Only one beast I can think of that would do something that horrendous would be him I tell ya."

"I heard he eats sailors, not even leavin' a bone left for the dogs..."

"Shut it!" The sailors all exuded a cry of surprise as their table was violently jarred from the strike of a large Nord. He slowly lifted his fists, a bit of spilled ale coating his hands and the surface of the table. "You've both been hitting the skooma to hard. Those pirates are nothing but an infestation on the water, nothing more, nothing less and the longer we let'em have the satisfaction of terrifying us like this, the more they'll burrow in like a nest of rats, claiming rule over _our_ ocean. Now enough of this talk, the Crimson Maws have never came on land and there ain't nothin' saying they will anytime soon. I say we enjoy our drinks and quit gossiping like a bunch of bored, lonely house wives." The Nord spoke before slowly sinking back into his chair.

"But what about..."

"Not another word out of both of you. I came here to drink dammit! And I intend to do just that so I suggest that you two quit blathering on and get to drinking yourselves."

The Dunmer and Imperial merely looked at there Nordic companion with a hint of shock at the larger man's outburst but otherwise stayed silent and instead chose to continue to nurse their drinks. They were slow at first but soon they began to drink with more fervor much to the broad Nord's satisfaction, content in thinking the conversation done and over with.

The Dunmer and Imperial sailors weren't the only ears who had been privy to the conversation, however. A pair of keen ears had been studying the sailors, dissecting every word of their conversation, their reactions, their emotions. Once the immense Nord had promptly ended the conversation, that was their cue.

A dark, cloaked figure rose from its seat and slowly made it's way to the sailor's table, each stride taken full of purpose and power.

The trio of sailors immediately stopped tending their drinks as they regarded the cloaked figure approaching them with a mix of curiosity and unease until the dark individual reached their table and stood before them.

There was a long stretch of silence before the young Imperial Sailor spoke up "We ain't got nothin t'say to the likes of you. Unless you got somethin real important to say, leave us to our grog." He punctuated with a long drink from his tankard.

"I'm going to kill the leader of the Crimson Maws. Is that important enough for you?" came the startlingly feminine voice from beneath the hooded cloak.

The Imperial spat out his drink quicker than when he had drank it coating the adjacent, sitting Dunmer in a spray of beer to which was replied with a loud yelp of surprise.

Beneath the hood, this figure smirked and chuckled at the annoyed men who scrambled to try and clean there clothes in vain. It didn't last long however as the figure's smirk was soon wiped by the Nord who's expression was not nearly as amused.

"With a claim like that, i'm surprised you can even walk with stones that large." The nord man said, taking a sip from his tankard "But that ain't the voice of a lad now is it."

"And they say Nord's aren't perceptive." The cloaked figure chuckled before methodically reaching up and pulling back her hood to reveal a sight that made the men at the table gasp in surprise.

Before them stood a wood elf beauty, the likes none of them had ever seen before. Her face, like many of her race, was thin and angular with sharp, well defined lines along her cheeks and jaw line that led to her perfectly pointed ears. A set of gold rings hanging along the length of her right ear; A face that many a pampered imperial noble would pay a fortune for. However, what instantly drew the men's attention was her long, ash blonde hair that spilled across her shoulders when she had pulled down her hood. That, and her striking, steel gray eyes that held a fierce confidence within that bordered on being both enticing and frightening simultaneously.

"Aye, and that's not _all_ they say about Nords," he said leaning forward, a wide smirk splayed across his face. "If the lasses in Skyrim have anything to say about it, we Nords are..." He was cut off by a raise of the hand from the Bosmer woman.

"You know damn well i'm not here to speak about your mother, Nord." The woman said with an annoyed sigh.

"That's right! She doesn't want some hairy, mead soaked Nord. What she needs is a sophisticated Imperial man."

"Like Oblivion she would, you narcissistic Nibenaean spear polisher." the Dunmer sneered.

An argument quickly broke out at the table, the three men verbally assaulting one another over which man would be best suited for the exotic Bosmer beauty that stood before them.

The woman groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Perhaps, the Nord's early tactic to gain the others attention would prove useful once again.

"Shut it!" The Bosmer woman shouted, slamming a fist onto the table so hard it made the tankards rattle...and ceased the men's bickering.

"Look. I came here to gather information, not bear witness to a group of men vying for my attention by seeing who is the 'biggest'. If you can't willingly give me the information I am seeking, then I will find a different _sad_ little hole with even _sadder_ people who will be more willing to part with a few words. Am I understood?" The woman said, her hard, steely gaze boring into the trio, expectant of an answer and soon.

The men looked to one another before the Nord awkwardly cleared his throat "Aye...sorry about that, lass. Would you at least grace us with your name? Then we'll talk."

"Promise?"

"Aye, I swear on my father's prized cow."

The Imperial snickered "Odd thing to refer to your mum as." The glare the woman shot him could have made a chair leg wilt...but the man seemed to adapt to the role quite proficiently.

The woman eventually relented her piercing gaze and sighed, closing her eyes to collect her bearings before she set them back upon the trio. "Sparrow. My name is Sparrow," she said evenly, looking to each man for their reactions. "Now, I do believe that you owe me some information."

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 **Here we are, a brand new adventure that is sure to be full of action, suspense, horror and general good fun. I do hope you all will stick around to see how the story progresses as it, in turn, will cause me to advance in rank within the writer's guild. As always, reviews are always welcome and appreciated...and also vehemently encouraged.**


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